WHEN Josiah Lorriby came into our neighborhood to keep a
school I was too young to go to it alone. Having no older
brother or sister to go along with me, my parents, although they were
desirous for me to begin, were about to give it up, when fortunately it
was ascertained that William Williams, a big fellow whose widowed
mother resided near to us, intended to go for one term and complete
his education preparatory to being better fitted for an object of vast
ambition which he had in view. His way lay by our door, and as he
was one of the most accommodating persons in the world, he proffered
to take charge of me. Without hesitation and with much gratitude
this was accepted, and I was delivered over into his keeping.

William Williams was so near being a man that the little boys used
to call him Mr. Bill. I never can forget the stout homespun dresscoat
which he used to wear, with the big pockets opening horizontally
across the outer side of the skirts. Many a time, when I was fatigued
by walking or the road was wet with rains, have I ridden upon his
back, my hands resting upon his shoulders and my feet standing in
those capacious pockets. Persons who have never tried that way of
travelling have no just idea, I will venture to say, how sweet it is.
Mr. Bill had promised to take care of me, and he kept his word.

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On the first morning when the school was opened, we went together
to it. About one mile and a half distant stood the school-house.
Eighteen by twenty feet were its dimensions. It was built of logs and
covered with clap-boards. It had one door, and opposite to that a
hole in the wall two feet square, which was called the window. It
stood in the corner of one of our fields (having formerly been used as
a fodder-house), and on the brow of a hill, at the foot of which, overshadowed
by oak trees, was a noble spring of fresh water. Our way
led us by this spring. Just as we reached it, Mr. Bill pointed to the
summit and said:

“Yonder it is, Squire.”

Mr. Bill frequently called me Squire, partly from mere facetiousness,
and partly from his respect for my father, who was a Justice of
the Peace.

I did not answer. We ascended the hill, and Mr. Bill led me into
the presence of the genius of the place.

Mr. Josiah Lorriby was a remarkable man, at least in appearance.
He was below the middle height, but squarely built. His body was
good enough, but his other parts were defective. He had a low flat
head, with very short hair and very long ears. His arms were reasonably
long, but his hands and legs were disproportionately short. Many
tales were told of his feet, on which he wore shoes with iron soles. He
was sitting on a split-bottom chair, on one side of the fire-place.
Under him, with his head peering out between the rounds, sitting on
his hind legs and standing on his fore legs, was a small yellow dog,
without tail or ears. This dog's name was Rum. On the side of the
hearth, in another split-bottom, sat a tall raw-boned woman with the
reddest eyes that I have ever seen. This was Mrs. Mehitable, Mr.
Lorriby's wife. She had ridden to the school on a small aged mare,
perfectly white and totally blind. Her name was Kate.

When I had surveyed these four personages,— this satyr of a man,
this tailless dog, this red-eyed woman, and this blind old mare, a sense of
fear and helplessness came over me, such as I had never felt before, and
have never felt since. I looked at Mr. Bill Williams, but he was
observing somebody else, and did not notice me. The other pupils,
eighteen or twenty in number, seemed to be in deep meditation. My
eyes passed from one to another of the objects of my dread; but they
became finally fastened upon the dog. His eyes also had wandered,
but only with vague curiosity, around upon all the pupils, until they

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became fixed upon me. We gazed at each other several moments.
Though he sat still, and I sat still, it seemed to me that we were
drawing continually nearer to each other. Suddenly I lifted up my
voice and screamed with all my might. It was so sudden and sharp
that everybody except the woman jumped. She indifferently pointed
to the dog. Her husband arose, came to me, and in soothing tones
asked what was the matter.

“I am scared!” I answered, as loud as I could speak.

“Scared of what, my little man? of the dog?”

“I am scared of all of you!”

He laughed with good humor, bade me not be afraid, called up Rum,
talked to us both, enjoined upon us to be friends, and prophesied that
we would be such — the best that had ever been in the world. The
little creature became cordial at once, reared his fore feet upon his
master, took them down, reared them upon me, and in the absence of
a tail to wag, twisted his whole hinder-parts in most violent assurance
that if I should say the word we were friends already. Such kindness,
and so unexpected, dissolved my apprehensions. I was in a condition
to accept terms far less liberal. So I acceded, and went to laughing
outright. Everybody laughed, and Rum, who could do nothing better
in that line, ran about and barked as joyously as any dog with a tail
could have done. In the afternoon when school was dismissed, I
invited Rum to go home with me; but he, waiting as I supposed for a
more intimate acquaintance, declined.